Alec is wrinkly and most definitely still not smilling
by CloudedCreation
Summary: The most hateful thing about Miller, though – if one were to ignore the way she always takes her tea with too much creamer, her hideous neon coats and how she never stops nagging him about taking his bloody pills – is how she is almost always right.


Alec has grown old. His skin is sagging on his face, cheekbones too sharp and cheeks too hollow. His bones ache more often than not and his left hip is always lagging just slightly behind his right. Doctor Oliver tells him he ought to get a cane just about every time Alec has to see him, but Alec isn't getting a bloody cane. He might be old as balls, but he sure as hell will be six feet under before he gets himself a bloody cane. Bloody canes are for other people, not Alec.

Of course, Miller nags to him about it constantly – calls him an idiot and hits him with her handbag as she murders him with her eyes. Alec dreads the day Miller has to get a bloody cane. She'll have better reach, then, and he reckons a long, hard stick hurts more than the orange monstrosity she calls a handbag when you're getting smacked.

He's gonna have to talk to Miller's doctor, making sure none of them gets any ideas.

He grabs ahold of the railing, making sure his feet are where they're supposed to be and his upper body not leaning too much in any direction. Walking down slippery stone stairs wasn't funny when he was young, and it certainly isn't funnier now that he's old. He doesn't exactly like having to use the railing in the capacity he has to, but he'd much rather that than fall down and break both his legs.

He isn't getting that blasted cane, but even that would be preferable to a bloody wheelchair.

Alec is old, with a heart that should by all accounts have given out years ago and hundreds of other things that comes with the package, but he shall not be confined to a chair on wheels.

Not gonna happen.

He gets down safely – like there was any doubts – and scowls at the sight that meets him.

All that scowling and frowning and glaring over the years has made him terribly wrinkly, lines upon lines on his face, and there's not much point in stopping now. He's certainly not planning to, given the way that life constantly manages to entice the feeling of displeasure in him.

Bloody sun shining in his eyes. Bloody cook putting too much salt on his chips. Bloody Miller and her bloody children and their bloody grandkids.

"Grandpa Alec!" Oh, and there they come again. Running toward him. Smiling faces and dirty limbs and a headache even on the days where he feels _fine_.

And he's not smiling, when Emily throws herself around his middle – reckless and not careful in the way that only kids can be – because he has a face of stone. Wrinkly bloody stone with a permanent scowl, topped with eyebrows that are starting to get too long and hair in grave need of a haircut.

There is no smiling going on.

Of course, Miller grins at him, that one grin where she means that Hardy is fooling no one and isn't he just precious trying to deny the obvious to the bitter end. Miller is annoying on the best of days, and it's just his luck that she's the best friend he has and the only one to make any sort of sense in a world filled with lunatics.

The most hateful thing about Miller, though – if one were to ignore the way she always takes her tea with too much creamer, her hideous neon coats and how she never stops nagging him about taking his bloody pills – is how she is almost always right.

Alec wouldn't give her the satisfaction of her knowing the he knew that she knew. Oh no, not this time.

"Squirts," he says as a form of greeting to the monstrosities gathered around him.

The backyard is not exactly filled with people, but there're more than usual.

Blasted Miller making sure that no one forgets his bloody birthday. Some peace and quiet, all he asks for, but no. Let's invite the whole family, she said, it'll be fun, she said, I'll steal your ties and burn them if you disagree, she said.

Miller should be happy he likes his ties more than he likes just about anything else, or that ploy wouldn't have worked in the slightest.

"Happy Birthday!" Kevin shouts loud enough that Alec's starts to question whether the kid thinks he's as deaf as he is wrinkly. Kevin is holding onto his leg, toothily grinning up at him – and would you look at that, missing both of his front teeth now – and Alec can't quite help but ruffle the brown mop the kid calls hair.

And Alec is not smiling, just so that we're clear.

He's just working his facial muscles differently than usual, is all.

Nothing wrong with that.


End file.
